Is our luck not bad enough?
by Altalee
Summary: The boys have a bit of run in with our favourite half native assassin after messing with a dagger they suspected of being supernatural. It may be supernatural, just not in the way that they were expecting...


Dean just had to touch the weird dagger. You would have thought with all the supernatural objects the brothers had come across down the years, that a dagger that weirdly reflected the light and had a strange design to it, would scream 'DON'T TOUCH!' to their instincts. But no, Sam thought as he took in their new location, it would be the elder brother who would impulsively grab the weapon. The place looked oddly familiar but the youngest Winchester couldn't quite put his finger on it… until a man in a red-coated uniform pushed him out the way with a harsh shout of "Ere'! Watch where you're goin'!" Shocked by the realisation of _when_ they were rather than _where_ Sam simply nodded, his mouth slightly agape. Dean however had quickly snapped out of his own confused state as he watched the soldier push Sam, barging forward to deal with the man who messed with his little brother until said brothers hand landed on his shoulder to pull him back. "Dean, I wouldn't. The last thing we need to do is cause a scene when we're over 220 years in the past." He took in Deans shocked expression, "Redcoats haven't stomped around in the USA for over 220 years Dean and that is exactly what that man was. We look out of place enough as is, I mean people are starting to stare already!" It was true that the citizens of the unknown city from the past were starting to throw looks into the direction of the two strangely dressed men, however these looks were soon directed into a new direction as a cry of "KILL THE DAMNED ASSASSIN!" went up. The Winchester brothers watched as a man in a white hood barrelled through the street, a dozen redcoats on his tail, before he started to scale one of the cities many wooden buildings before a shot hit too close to his hand, splintering the wood with an almighty crack, and sending the 'assassin' tumbling down. The mysterious hooded man managed to land gracefully and turned to face his assailants, a snarl clear on his face, as he drew a strangely shaped tomahawk from his belt along with a double-barrelled pistol. The boys watched as he shot two oncoming opponents dead in quick succession before storing his pistol and facing his remaining enemies with just as much grace and speed. The man was evidently skilled in combat, matching, or even possibly surpassing, the Winchesters in skill and precision. It took mere minutes before all those who had dared to chase him lay slain round his feet. A grimace crossed the strange man's face as he regarded his dead enemies and a near silent prayer of sorts left his lips before he made his escape. As he ran past Dean, he idly noted the ring on his finger had a similar design to the weird dagger that had thrown them into this weird place. Without thinking Dean turned tail and chased the man, tacking the larger, heavier man to the ground. 'Jesus! He's bigger than Sam!' As the man wrestled with Dean, he showed the dagger to him "Who the hell are you and what the fuck is this thing!"

Connor Kenway had not been having the best of days. True, he managed to prevent a civilian execution, but now he had a horde of pissed to hell redcoats on his tail. 'So angry over being denied the chance to execute innocents' the young assassin thought with no small amount of disdain. As he moved swiftly through the crowded street, he noticed an escape route in the form of a building up ahead. 'Perfect.' His legs propelled him up to grab the ledge just below a first floor window, just as a well-aimed shot splintered the sill too near to his hand. 'Damn!' His lip pulled up at the corner of his mouth as he turned to regard the soldiers surrounding him. Arming himself, he shot down two in their approach before regarding the rest with his tomahawk. The tomahawk was his most comfortable weapon in his entire arsenal, feeling like an extension of his arm as he fought. As he killed the last man, he regarded the bodies strewn around his feet before frowning at the large loss of life, "You had no choice but to fight under orders, may you find peace in death" he muttered as he moved to make his escape, moving past two strangely dressed males toward another building before one of the strangers tackled him to the ground. Connor growled and wrestled the smaller man, having dealt with more than enough trouble for one day, when the man near shoved a familiarly designed dagger too close to his face and with all the aggressiveness of an angry bear demanded, "Who the hell are you and what the fuck is this thing!" The word 'precursor' shot through Connor brain just as fast as a thrill of shock shot down his spine. That shock quickly turned to an anger as fierce as the strangers though as he bit out, "Where did you get that? And who are _you_?" It was then the other stranger stepped in hands up in what Connor recognised as a placating gesture. Connor quietly observed that the two were probably related due to their physical similarities as the taller of the two strange men spoke up "Me and my brother just want to know what's going on. My names Sam and the impulsive jerk on top of you is Dean." The native assassin nodded quietly, finally managing to shove Dean off of him, "My name is Connor and you appear to have a very powerful arte-""No shit Sherlock!" the eldest Winchester cut across him much to his frustration, "What I want to know is where we are!" Connor glared at the blonde, "You are in Boston." Now Dean glared, "When," he asked shortly. "The year 1777." The two strangers looked panicked which confused the assassin to no end, "You look shocked," he observed, "although I have heard of these such artefacts being troublesome." The brothers looked at him wide-eyed as he continued, "I suppose I should take you to Davenport so we can discuss your situation in private?" To this the two men exchanged a glace before warily nodding at Connor, "Lead the way," Sam gestured on.


End file.
